


Every morning I wake up to a new me!me!me!

by teathyme



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Dream Sex, Galomememe, M/M, Not sure how to tag if u see anything that desperately needs one let me know, Small description of theoretical death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teathyme/pseuds/teathyme
Summary: Kray can’t stop seeing Galo in his dreams.(Inspired by the me!me!me! video)
Relationships: Kray Foresight/Galo Thymos
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	Every morning I wake up to a new me!me!me!

There are nights where he dreams of Galo. 

Kray hasn’t been in direct contact with him for some time now, deciding early that it’d be better to cut off all contact rather than become a figure Galo thought he could rely on. 

It had been a hard pill to swallow for the boy, to know that he had no one anymore, that he had only himself to rely on. 

It must have been lonely for the boy, as it had been in Kray’s own childhood, not that it mattered to him, however. 

Kray did not save him from the fire, he couldn’t and wouldn’t save him from this. 

Honestly, Galo hadn’t been on his mind until Kray saw him again years later at the academy, no longer the slight boy he once was, but taller, fuller, filled out in all the right places. 

Kray had stared and stared and stared until the outline of him was burned into his memory. He watched as the boy interacted with his classmates, observed how he smiled and laughed. 

And it didn’t mean anything. Not until he wrapped a hand around his cock in his shower and came with a picture of Galo’s body in mind. 

Now, the boy haunts him. His dreams are filled with nothing but the swell of Galo’s chest, the slim curve of his waist, the swish of his hips. 

There are dreams where Kray fucks him, making Galo’s back arch in pleasure as he cries out, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. 

His imagination has gotten good at picturing Galo’s body in all sorts of outfits and poses - skirts and dresses, a striped bikini being one of his favorites. He fondly remembers a night where he had slipped the flimsy bottom to the side and fucked Galo like that, finishing all over the boys toned stomach, painting it white. 

But he’s never gotten his smile right. 

It’s always too wide, too empty, too fake, eyes almost unnervingly blank. 

It’s nearly as bad as the personalities. Which is to say that there’s no personality at all. The Galos in his dreams are empty shells of people, willing to do anything Kray wanted because they couldn’t even give the illusion that they had things the desired themselves. 

“What do you want?” He had asked the Galo in his lap one night, bored and curious of what he might say back. 

Galo had blinked, and giggled. “Whatever  _ you  _ want.” 

“What  _ do  _ I want? He said back with a smirk on his face, still interested in carrying this out for a little longer. 

Galo had tilted his head, eyes so empty you could fall into them and said, “Isn’t this it.” 

It isn’t a question. They both know the answer. Kray isn’t so dense that he doesn’t know what the other is referring to. 

It makes him mad, almost. How hard can it be? He sees the boy smile all the time, it’s not like it rare. He’s seen Galo talk to dozens of people - he knows the boy inside and out. How can he see it so clearly in his head in the day, but can’t recreate it at night?

(Quietly, a part of his mind reminds him that he can’t remember the last time Galo has smiled at  _ him.  _

And that might not mean anything, it might mean everything, he can’t know until he has that sun bright grin directed at him for once.) 

But if there’s one thing he can see, so clearly he could paint a picture of it, is Galo crying. 

He can easily imagine the way Galo’s eyes would shine with tears, how he would tremble, how his chest would hiccup as he sobbed. 

Kray never knows what to do in those dreams. He neither comforts him, nor does he turn away. He just watches. He feels as if he shouldn’t look away. 

The morning after those types of dreams would always start with him asking Biar to get a video of Galo for him. She’s used enough to the request that he doesn’t have to elaborate. 

He’d spend the afternoon watching Galo laugh at someone’s joke, or smiling at a stray cat. He’d view the clips Biar gathered for him over and over again, until he felt like he could transcribe it from memory, and then once more in the evening, so it could be the last thing he saw before he fell asleep. 

Comforting is not a word he would use to describe the behavior. It settles him, if anything. Calms the ache in his ribcage he always wakes up with. 

And it makes sure he doesn’t have another dream like that for a while. Long enough for him to forget why it unsettled him so much in the first place, long enough to make the emptiness unfamiliar enough to be almost scared of. 

But sex and tears aren’t all he dreams about. 

Some nights he dreams of a child crying, kneeled on the ground, hand reaching out towards him, begging him to say. 

He always just stares, and is forced to walk away, his body being controlled by something else. 

(Some nights he wants to reach back, wants his feet to take him in a different direction. But no matter what, he leaves, always running away.

He hates those night the most.)

Some nights he dreams of Galo killing him, of his eyes slipping close as Galo did what he wanted with Kray’s body. 

He would lay there, unable to do anything, as he’s killed by the one person he would let do it. 

(Those nights are some of his favorites, even if he can’t admit it to himself.)

He wonders if Galo could ever be able to actually do it, if the circumstances pushed him enough. 

Even after all these years, Galo remains devoted. Kray hears word of how much Galo admires him, of how he acts like Kray hung the stars and moons in the sky. 

But people change - Galo would be no exception. Perhaps one day cruelty will reshape him, form him into a person he can’t even recognize. Maybe one day his empathy will run dry, and there will be no more stray cats being fed or smiles to be offered. 

That day, Galo might be able to pull the trigger on him. 

But he’ll be kind for once - Kray wouldn’t even tell him that he was the one who put the gun in Galo’s hand.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> There are no words.....


End file.
